Iridescent
by Fantasism
Summary: "Suddenly, the rain stopped, and she looked up to see her life, her saviour, and her best friend. She just hadn't known it at the time." Rin really hated this. Really hated Tuesdays. Gakurin.


A/n: Hi, everyone! This will be my first one-shot up on here. And I'm uber excited. :D

Disc.: Do I have to say it? Fine. I don't own Vocaloid.

Warnings: AU, language, relationship with a minor, self-harm mentioned.

–

_Iridescent_

"You can't bury all this sadness and frustration, Rin. You have to remember it, then let it go. It's okay to hope. You don't have to be so _terrified _of failure."

The blonde only nodded numbly, lips thinning as she refused to speak. The clock chimed 8, and her psychiatrist sighed, setting down her binder full of handy-dandy-Rin-notes. A small smile played on the short-haired brunette's mouth. "I don't suppose you'll be willing to stay any later?" She crossed her legs, right over left, and folded her hands, looking at her current charge with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"Sorry, Meiko, you know I have to catch the bus," she said, standing and gathering her backpack.

Rin really hated this.

"Are you sure? I could always drive you home. You're my last of the day."

Rin really hated Tuesdays.

"I'm sure," the younger answered, and left.

When she got outside the building, it was raining (pouring, more accurately). Rin screamed, and though it was muffled by thunder, it made her feel a bit better. However, she punched the wall for good measure, bruising and bloodying her knuckles in the process. She hissed a breath through her teeth, wincing, before turning down the street and bolting to catch the 8:05 bus home.

_Of course_ by the time she got there, the bus was pulling out. It could totally see her, but the driver chose to ignore her as he bustled down the road. Rin swore loudly and bit her tongue in aggravation. Pushing wet bangs from her face, she sat down on the nearby bench and closed her eyes, prepared to wait for twenty fucking minutes for the next bus to arrive.

Suddenly, the rain stopped, and she looked up to see her life, her saviour, and her best friend. She just hadn't known it at the time.

–

The guy was tall, and begrudgingly handsome, Rin thought sourly. He had long, purple hair and dark blue eyes she, if she were a normal teenage girl with functioning hormones, would've thought she could swim in. They were filled with concern. In his hand, he held an umbrella above her head, shielding her from the downpour.

She should have said thank you. Should have smiled prettily and introduced herself. Instead, she curled her lips in distaste and growled, "_What_?"

It didn't deter him, however. He grinned slightly, a lopsided turn of the mouth that made her heart go _thu-dump! _in her chest. Uncomfortably, she rubbed at the skin above, hoping to be rid of the irksome feeling. "I don't want you getting sick," he said. As if he were actually concerned about her well-being or something. How far-fetched was _that _idea? Brows furrowing, he motioned to her hands. "What happened?"

She looked down to see crimson stains still smeared over the back of her fingers, and she scowled, turning her palm over in her lap so that she could rub the blood off with her jeans, and she pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down to cover them. "Nothing."

There was silence, and the boy—man, actually, he had to be at least in him mid-twenties—looked like he wanted to pry for more, but didn't. Instead, he sat next to her, umbrella between them, still protecting her from the rain.

"What are you doing?" she asked, wanting to scoot away, but wanting to be dry. She stayed where she was, defending herself with the thought that she _was _there first and shouldn't _have _to move.

"Waiting for the bus," he answered, and she didn't have a comeback for him. So she sat there, with his dryness and smell of cheap cologne, until the bus finally arrived and she sat at the back of it, him in the front.

–

The next Tuesday was different, yet the same. The sun was out (it was early summer, after all, and the sun tended to stay out until around 8:30), and there was no rain, but Rin was still miserable after her appointment, and she had, once again, missed the bus. In anger, she kicked the bench over, nearly taking out a surprised, purple-haired man.

He gave her a questioning glance. "What's wrong?"

"I missed the _fucking _bus again."

Taking out an expensive-looking phone, he said, "So we did." He pocketed the device and sauntered up to the overturned seat. He set it back in its place and sat down.

Huffing, Rin sat down on the opposite side of the bench, thank you very much, and crossed her arms.

"Kamui Gakupo."

"_What_?" She looked at him like he grew seven extra heads.

"My name. It's Kamui." He did that crooked grin thing again, and she pointedly looked away. "What's yours?"

"...Rin."

He rose a brow. "Just Rin?"

She nodded, looking off into the distance. "Yeah. Just Rin."

This time, when the bus came, she didn't sit in the back, but two rows away from Kamui Gakupo.

–

On the third Tuesday, she discovered he was a psychiatrist at the hospital she went to. He specialized in disabled children. She almost found it sweet. Until he asked her why she was in therapy.

"None of your damned business," she answered, and refused to talk to him for the rest of the wait.

She sat in the back again.

–

On the fourth Tuesday, he apologized.

She forgave him. Hesitantly. But forgiveness all the same.

–

On the fifth Tuesday, he got off the bus with her.

She gave him a startled glance. "The fuck you doing?" she questioned, smacking her gum. He crinkled his nose in distaste at her. She felt a small victory had been achieved. Usually, Gakupo was all smiles. _She _got a nose-crinkle.

Rin liked new things.

"Walking you home," he replied. "It's dark out, and I don't feel comfortable with you going by yourself."

She scowled, and he waited for her to start walking. Eventually, she did, with a mumbled, "I can talk care of myself, idiot."

The smile was back. "I know."

–

On the tenth Tuesday, she was crying.

_That _was embarrassing enough on its own, and she almost considered taking up Meiko's offer of a ride just so that she wouldn't have to face Gakupo.

For whatever reason, she ended up taking the bus.

As she sniffled, he told her how it was _okay _to cry. It was _okay _to have emotions and be sad. She could see his curiosity, though. He wanted to know why she was so upset. The scary part was that she _wanted _to tell him. She wanted him to know, so that he could comfort her more.

There was no real reason. Sure, Meiko had made Rin talk about _him_, but she usually did. Maybe it was because Rin had wanted to talk about _him _today. But she hadn't wanted to talk to Meiko about _him_. She wanted to talk to Gakupo. _That _scared the everliving shit out of her so much, she let him hold her hand until the bus came, and then again on the walk home.

It wasn't until then that Gakupo had asked why she had been crying, and Rin wanted to tell him so much because she was now frightened of more than crying, more than wanting to open up. She was afraid of him, because she came to the startling realization she was falling in love with him and so she needed to ditch him.

So, as they approached her driveway, she rolled up her sleeves, looked him straight in the eye, and then ran inside.

–

The next Tuesday, he was on her in a second.

"_What_ are these?" he asked, voice almost _harsh _for an instant. He had grabbed her wrist, shoved her long-sleeved shirt up to her elbows. His eyes fierce, he took them in. The angry red scars and cuts that adorned her arm. Starting from her wrist, and travelling up to the inside of her arm, she knew, and also the secret ones. The ones on her legs and stomach that he couldn't see. Those ugly markings of her failures. Reminders of times no one was there for her, because she had lost the only person that cared.

"They're me," she answered. Then, as an afterthought, "Me and Len."

–

Naturally, he asked who Len was. And she could do no more than tell him the tale of her poor, sick brother who had died of leukaemia, and of her parents that now seemed only shells of former human beings. Of not being cared for since she and Len were eight, because he needed attention because he was dying.

She could do no more but tell him about her scars. Could do no more but tell him how utterly unloved she was.

And he held her until the bus came, and she sat with him this time, holding his hand.

–

Tuesdays blended until they were practically one. She learned so many things about him. He was 24 (eight years older than herself), and had been a psychiatrist for two years now. His favourite colour was purple (which she assumed was responsible for the strange shade of his hair). He liked anything with eggplant in it. He _almost _cried during Disney films. He enjoyed the same type of angst-y music she did. He could tie a cherry stem in a knot with him tongue (she tried not to blush too hard at that fact, as she had been wanting to kiss him very much recently).

But, most of all, she learned that after fifteen Tuesdays that she loved him. Because while she learned, he was _healing _her. With his anecdotes of happenings at work, to his life experiences, to his ever-helpful advice and listening skills. He was better than therapy to her. Better than the antidepressants they shoved down her throat.

So much better.

–

On the twentieth Tuesday, he kissed her.

It'd been surprising, possibly for the both of them. It was 8:06, and they had just missed the bus. It was dark out already, as winter was rolling in, and they'd both bundled up. They were talking about something normal—the weather or politics or even her dumb classmates—when he suddenly looked so _serious_ and she opened her mouth to call him stupid or something equally as silly when he bent at the waist and locked lips with her.

He head spun, the tips of her fingers tingles, she couldn't feel her toes.

She didn't know how to response, only knew she wanted this for _so long_. It took her a bit, but she finally wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, breath coming out in pants between them. It was intense, and it felt so real. Made _her _feel real. No longer did she feel like a broken shell of a person. She felt like an actual human being, and she didn't want to let it go.

Then he pulled away from her, apologized, and retreated somewhere around the corner.

He missed the bus.

She sat by herself again.

–

He was gone for two Tuesdays. When he finally came back, she was furious. So furious, she punched him in the face so hard her knuckles hurt.

He fumbled backwards and tripped over his own feet, ending up on the ground with her standing above him, hands clutched into fists threateningly at her sides. "What the _fuck_," she said, seething, "Is your _problem_?"

Kamui put out a what he probably thought was a calming hand. "I'm sorry," he started, "Let me explain."

She crossed her arms, glaring. "I'm waiting."

Standing (and holding his—bleeding, she realized belatedly—nose), her began speaking. "Twenty-two Tuesdays ago I saw you sitting in the rain waiting for the bus. You looked like a lost little girl." She wasn't little, nor was she lost. Was she? "I felt pity for you."

"I don't need your stupid pity," she growled.

"Please, Rin, let me finish."

Begrudgingly, she nodded. Let him have his way for now.

"As I was saying," he stated, "I saw you, and I felt... sad. I felt like I should do something. So I did. I befriended you. I tried to make you feel as safe as possible. But along the line, I fell for you. I fell for your smile that took so long to coax out of you. I wanted more out of you, and I know how wrong it is. You're eight years my junior, yet I learned so much about human emotions from you. I've never met anyone who could _feel_ like that."

As he took a deep breath, Rin was left to think. He couldn't possibly have the same feelings for her. She wasn't meant to be loved. She couldn't be loved. She was a sad little shell of a person who didn't deserve attention or affection, and she'd been greedy taking up his time. He didn't love her. He loved the idea of fixing her. Yes, that had to be it.

"I love you, Rin."

Brain shutting down, she reached up and kissed him.

–

Their Tuesdays became Wednesdays and Thursdays and Fridays and weekends, too. They saw each other almost daily. Things got better for Rin. She hurt less, inside and out, and even Meiko noticed the change.

"What's different?" she asks patiently, not really expecting an answer but hoping for one all the same.

Rin smiled—an honest to God _smile_. "I'm loved."

_Fin._

–

A/N: How was it? Gimmie feedback! R&R!


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